


Ham Boning

by TheAdventuresofCirceandHype



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: Aggressive kissing, Big gut, Bondage, Breast Play, Chapter 1:, Dubious Consent, Eating During Sex, Edible Body Paint, F/M, Forcibly removing clothes, Hand Gagging, Lactation, Licking, Manhandling, Manual Expressing, Mouth gagging, Nipple Play, Size Difference, Suckling, Tentacles, Voice Kink, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28100979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdventuresofCirceandHype/pseuds/TheAdventuresofCirceandHype
Summary: You, a former contestant on the cancelled season of Kondescending Kitchen, set out to find your old mentor and idol, Rupert Swaggart. You wind up finding him AND a few new things about yourself.
Relationships: Meat Sweats (TMNT)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Ham Boning

**Author's Note:**

> If there's a word for putting food on someone's breasts and licking it off, do me a solid and let me know so I can put it in the tags. Thanks! Happy Reading!

_I’m going to get in SO much trouble for this…_ was the only thought on repeat in your mind, as you waded through ankle-high litter. Your nostrils filled with the smell of the NYC subway. It’d been a month since you had to call out sick from your reality TV gig, as much as you regretted to do it. You’d been waiting for an opportunity to be on Kondescending Kitchen for years. Not to mention the several years before that you’d spent in culinary school.

You’d seen the unfinished recording of the episode you were absent for. But you couldn’t wrap your head around it. How could your host/mentor transform into a horrible mutated monster? Apparently, New York had been having mutant sightings for a while and it was in the middle of a spike. Your respected mentor had to still be out there. Perhaps whatever caused him to ‘mutate’ had reversed itself or had worn off by now. You prayed he hadn’t mutated at all and that the footage had been manipulated or the camera had malfunctioned, somehow.

Mr. Swaggart had probably had a food allergy or caught a disease which caused his skin to swell up and roughen, you told yourself. You knew he was hiding out somewhere in the city to evade the paparazzi. Luckily, you were gifted at tracking (one of your older hobbies you’d kept from camping as a child). You were gonna find your old idol and coax him back to normalcy if it was the last thing you did. Tonight, you were getting close. You could feel it.

You scanned your surroundings with the flashlight you’d brought. You’d gone off the train tracks into a deserted area of the subway. It was dark and the metal beams surrounding you started to eerily feel like prison bars. You closed your eyes and concentrated on your hearing. After a few seconds you picked up on the sound of light speaking. You took a breath to steady your nerves and moved toward the sound. Rounding a corner of beams, the sound became louder. You tiptoed down the walkway and froze in your tracks as you heard a second voice. Clearer then the first. You moved faster toward it. You began jumping from beam to beam, as you neared the noise. You came to a lit area. You held your flashlight downward with your back to the beam.

Someone had set up a small makeshift kitchen in this area. It appeared to be just outside an abandoned train car. The first voice you’d heard had apparently come from a TV that had been placed there. For a few bleak moments you saddened at the thought that you’d only tracked down a random homeless person. But then the second voice spoke up.

“No, you git! You don’t use Worcestershire sauce as a replacement for soy! The flavors are nigh incomparable. S’right disgusting, innit?”

Your soul leaped from your body. But you possessed enough self control to peak your hooded head out from behind the beam to look first. A hulking mass of pink skin was indeed sitting before the TV, faced away from you. You gulped and stepped out from behind your beam. You counted down to the moment you’d call this... person’s attention to your presence.

“Mr. Swaggart?” You asked, trying to sound formal and firm. But, really, it came out trembley and meek.

The large person’s ear twitched at your voice and he flinched. Knocking over a bowl of seasonings, which made a racketous clanging as it hit the floor. When he whipped around , you were rendered motionless by the hostile glare of his red eyes. In an instant he had you by the scruff of your hoodie, lifted your feet off the ground and pinned you against the beam. You grunted as the wind was knocked out of you.

“Who are you? What do you want from me? You one of those turtles come to have a go at me, again, are you?”

You had NO idea what he meant by “turtles” but you scrambled to get your hood off as you begged, “Mr. Swaggart! STOP! It’s me!” You finally pulled your hood down and tried not to shield your face with your hands too much, despite your instincts.

As you got a closer look at Rupert Swaggart, and he got one at you, his brow slowly unfurrowed as he realized you were familiar to him. The feeling wasn’t mutual. The man before you was, in fact, not a man. You were face to face with a pig mutant. You hoped your disgust was masked by your fear. Rupert Swaggart now had a piggy snout, an impossibly thick neck and cloven hooved feet. The only thing somewhat familiar to you was the tiny chef’s cap on his head.

“Y/n?” He asked in an earnestly confused tone. “What….?” As the adrenaline left his system, Swaggart lifted you back down to your feet and let go of you. You noticed that he was several feet taller then he used to be, as you craned your neck upward to look at him.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?”

You stammered, wondering how to begin. “I… I…” Your head was still swimming at the revelation that the horrible rumors were true.

“Come,” Swaggart insisted, “have a seat.” He walked you over to a dingy couch he’d no doubt found left out on the sidewalk for sanitation to pick up one evening.

Still speechless and shaky you slumped down on the couch.

“You’re a loony for coming to find me,” Swaggart spat as he sat on a large bean bag chair opposite you, “little bird like you coming down ‘ere all by yourself.” He gave you a winking smile with his newly jagged teeth.

“Everybody said you’d turned into a mutant,” you blurted, “I didn’t believe them…”

Swaggart’s face fell for a moment before it brightened back up. “Well, sometimes ya can trust the rumor mill, I s’spose.” He laughed heartily.

You looked around at his underground campsite.

“You’ve been living like this?” You asked, unable to hide your shock.

Swaggarts face fell again. “I can’t go back there, Y/n. I’m a celebrity, I am. They’ll tear me a new one and I’ll be robbed of my dignity and career in front of everyone.”

It dawned on you that the situation was worse than you’d hoped. You started to regret your valiant search for your old co-star and (now former) idol.

Swaggart changed the subject.

“Why weren’t you there for filming that day?”

“That day? OH- you mean… right.” You gathered your thoughts and answered, “I caught the flu, so I stayed in my trailer.”

“Ah,” Swaggart nodded. It was nice of him to remember that you weren’t there for that particular shoot. You didn’t think he’d recall something like that. The thought made you smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try to get your career back?”

Swaggart sighed as he looked toward the ceiling.

“I’ve been researching the mutant situation in this city,” you explained your tone becoming firm, “there are more than you probably realize. There’s a whole mutant city below NYC, according to some sources.”

Swaggart was silent.

“You can get your career back,” you insisted, “hell, you can get a decent place to live. You’re only hiding down here because you’re _ashamed._ ”

Your cutting words didn’t seem to get through. After avoiding eye contact with you Swaggart spoke up.

“I’m afraid I don’t belong in either city. I’m not just a nobody so I’ll garner unwanted attention no matter where I go.”

Upon seeing the unconvinced look on your face he continued.

“That and I’m not used to being a mutant. I need some time alone. To figure… this out,” he said gesturing to himself. “And can you blame me, luv? Look at me.”

To your dismay, you obeyed Swaggart. He was quite a sight. The first mutant you’d ever seen up close.

“Time to get used to being a freak of nature,” Swaggart confessed with a deep sigh.

Heart bleeding, you walked up to him. The creature next to you seemed alien, still. But the sullen expression on his piggy features was too much to bear.

“Hey, Mr. Swaggart,” you said in a consoling tone. You summoned all of your will power to place your hand on the outside of his bulgy upper arm. It was as rough as you’d prepared yourself for but also pleasantly warm, like human skin.

“I don’t think it’s that bad… your new look is kinda cute.”

You did always love to watch cute videos of piglets (despite being an occasional meat eater). So, you weren’t completely fibbing. Swaggart glanced sideways at your hand, then at you. You flashed him the most genuinely encouraging smile you could. You sensed that he needed kindness. Maybe even just a little friendly company. It was gloomy and lonely in this subway cavern.

You took your hand off Swaggart’s arm but you felt as if your touch had left something there. Something that couldn’t be tangibly defined. Straightening your hoodie, you picked up the flashlight you’d dropped earlier.

“Well, I better get back home, Mr. Swaggart. I’ll come to visit, sometime.” You made for the way you’d came. “I gotta get home to feel my plant-”

For the second time that evening, the air was knocked out of your lungs.

Swaggart had grabbed you round the waist with one arm and used his free hand to cover your mouth. You grunted with alarm. He squeezed you so hard your whole body felt as if it could burst.

“You’re not going anywhere, cheeky lil’ minx,” he whispered with a sinister chuckle. He held you tight as you struggled. The softness of his front against your back contrasted with his rock hard arms about the rest of you.

“See, I’m a collector of unique flavors now,” he paused to, from what you could glean, take a deep sniff of your hair. His snout brushing against your scalp. “And I can’t let something so sweet scurry away from me.” With that he stomped on your flashlight, crushing it to bits.

You shook again, giving a few pleading grunts. They only made Swaggart chuckle more.

“Also, it isn’t ‘Swaggart’, anymore. Not even ‘Rupert’.” He headed toward one of the opened doors of the abandoned train car. Your stomach did flips. They weren’t all pleasant but they weren’t all unpleasant. You knew what you were in for and the only thing you felt was unadulterated excitement. Your breath quickened.

“Now they call me, Meat Sweats,” his warm breath whispered in your ear. You did a full body shudder as he licked up the side of your neck.

He hauled you into the car with the enthusiasm of a vacationer bringing their luggage to a hotel room. But the Marriott this was not. It was a regular old train car but with a very large mattress at the far end. It was propped up by the adjacent subway seats and some storage boxes between them, underneath.

To your surprise, Meat Sweats didn’t take you anywhere near it. Still holding you thrush against him and gagging you with one arm, his free arm began unraveling itself before you. You stared wide eyed, wondering if you were hallucinating. You squealed and shook with fright. But Meat Sweats only responded by forcibly removing your hoodie. As soon as it was off, you felt your wrists being lifted above your head.

One set of arm tentacles tied your wrists together to a metal pole, the ones all subway cars had so commuters had something to hold onto. Meat Sweats unraveled his other arm as his eyes washed over you. You hadn’t even dressed sexy, or anything. You’d gone out that evening in a tee shirt and jeans. But Meat Sweats eyed you up like you’d once seen him do to a fine chocolate tort.

Meat Sweats wasted no time. He slipped his tentacles under your clothes, every which way they could get. Your breath heavied at the odd sensation of those greedy tendrils caressing your bare flesh. Eagerly, they snaked their way under your bra. Swiping their way over your breasts with a certain tenderness you weren’t prepared for. You involuntarily leaned into the tentacles, shakily exhaling through your mouth.

This made Meat Sweats chuckle darkly, biting his lower lip. Some of his tentacles slid further down your body, undid your pants button and fly and let your pants drop down to your lower thighs. They wrapped themselves around your upper thighs and squeezed them. The tiny tip of one tendril began rubbing itself vertically up and down your sex through your underwear. Your whole body stiffened before giving in and thrusting yourself in rhythm with it.

As you lost yourself in the methodic squeezing and kneading of your body, breathing too heavily to speak, Meat Sweats drank in the sight. Clearly hot and bothered, judging from the perspiration on his brow and the fact that the pink hue of his face deepened. A bead of saliva formed at the corner of his mouth and dripped down. You suddenly had a terrible feeling and began to wonder what ALL your captors intentions were.

“Don’t fret, my pet,” Meat Sweats assured you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m not going to eat you,” he continued, licking where he’d started to drool, “or drain your essence…”

Before you could wonder what he’d meant by that last part, the tendril stimulating your opening stopped to slither inside your underwear. You closed your eyes and wriggled with an exhilarating combination of fear and anticipation. The tendril resumed it’s rubbing pattern, barely slipping between you as it went. Until Meat Sweats finished explaining himself.

“I want you nice and… _vital_ for me…”

Right upon the emphasized word, the tendril mercilessly stuck itself into you a few inches, rough and fast. In and right back out. Then returned to rubbing your inner labia. You grunted several times in succession at the sudden invasion. This seemed to arouse Meat Sweats immensely as he smacked his lips.

“Also,” he continued, his voice deepening to heavy petting, “I think I’ll taste you the old fashioned way…”

His tentacles removed your shirt and undid your bra, while momentarily releasing your wrists. A tentacle hooked itself around the center of your bra, where the cups met, to pull it off. You clasped your hands hard together in front of you to stop them. But Meat Sweats was merely amused.

“Now, now, don’t be like that,” he tsked as his tentacles simply swooped your bra up to your wrists and tangled it up with themselves to tie them back to the pole.

You didn’t know where to look with your top half fully exposed. You glanced around the car nervously as Meat Sweats knelt down before you. You felt his soggy, warm tongue flatten against you, just below your navel. You failed to stifle the grunts of pleasure as he began dragging his tongue upward, licking up your belly, between your ribs. All the way up to between your breasts. Here, he stopped to relish the taste of your flesh. Slowly flicking around his tongue in his mouth. It wouldn’t have been so bad if his face wasn’t so close to yours. His eyes were closed as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

He knelt down and licked up your front again. Faster this time. Moaning as he went. The combination of his hot breath on your skin and the vibrations of his voice reverberating through your body, causing you to quiver frantically with lust.

“Tantalizing flavor,” Meat Sweats admitted, “clean and sweet with a spicy finish.”

You refused to believe he’d tasted all that on you. Your bare flesh flushed and buzzed for more, despite yourself. Your primal side wanted nothing more than to be his. But your rational side knew you’d regret allowing it. While your mouth was free you decided to speak up.

“Please…” you begged softly, “let me go.”

Meat Sweats lowered his face down close to yours. He held it in place with one of his tentacles.

“You like this,” he purred before placing his lips possessively on yours. His kiss felt like an act of bullying. You couldn’t stop your tongues from brushing each other just a little.

He pulled away and asked “And what was that you were saying about shame earlier, sweetheart?”

You slowly lifted your head to see his smugly judging expression. The sudden eye contact seemed to turn both of you on. You bit your lower lip as you realized he, at least somewhat, had a point. Meat Sweats took your silence as defeat as he chortled and wrapped his tentacles tightly around your mouth. You grunted at the firmness of their grip.

“No more lip outta you,” he demanded.

The tips of his tentacles began circling themselves around your nipples. One kept circling without end, at a consistently quick pace. The other flicked itself slowly over your other nipple. Playing with it. Occasionally pressing it straight down so that it flattened obediently into your breast. Then allowing your nipple to pop back up as it stiffened.

Meat Sweats watched ever so intently through sultrily lowered eyelids. He continued teasing your nipples for a few minutes switching each tentacle from aggressive to gentle. Once you began trembling from the prolonged stimulation, each tentacle wrapped itself around your breasts. The pattern they created reminded you of soft serve ice cream. The tips stopped near your nipples, where they’d gotten familiar and resumed stimulating them. You winced as they elongated your breasts a bit, then squished them back down on your chest.

“Mmh, your tits are lovely,” Meat Sweats complimented, “I’ve been havin’ a little thought ‘ere, luv. I’m gonna dress them up all fancy like…”

He paused to watch your expression change from aroused to worried.

“Take a photo for me special insta,” he expounded, becoming increasingly horny with every word, “then have myself a little taste of your dairy.” The last portion breathily as if speaking it had tired him out with desire.

Your breath hiked again, through the coils of his tentacles under your nose. He must’ve been joking. There was absolutely no way he knew how to do _that_.

Meat Sweats mercifully uncoiled your breasts. The massive pig monster leaned over and reached to a minifridge that had been set up and plugged in, inside the train car.

“Luckily, I always keep some nibbles in 'ere in case I get peckish,” Meat Sweats informed you in a quirky tone. He opened the fridge and returned his tentacles to ‘right arm’ mode.

“Aha!” Meat Sweats triumphantly shouted, “Perfect!” Out of it came chocolate sauce, edible body paint in various colors and a small jar of maraschinos. The only thing that stood out was a singular apple.

“It’s a shame I ran outta whipped cream, ey Short Stack?” MeatSweats mocked as you shot him an incredulous look.

Scraping up a few paint brushes lying around, Meat Sweats got to work painting up your breasts. He started with some of the sugary liquid in the cherry jar. Then he began mixing it in with the chocolate sauce. Coldly coating each of your breasts heavily and stickily. Goosebumps rose on your breasts as your nipples further stiffened. Your face flushed with embarrassment. You did NOT expect to be ‘prepped’ tonight. Or EVER for that matter. You worried that Meat Sweats would go back on his promise not to eat you, now.

Switching to a thinner brush, he painted lightly and with surprising concentration. He made little swooping motions that tickled the soft sensitive skin of your breasts. You twitched slightly at the sensation.

“Stay still girl,” Meat Sweats ordered, “don’t wanna foul up the design.”

_This is ridiculous_ , you thought to yourself, _how much longer was this going to take?_ Still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious about what you’d look like when he was done. When a man treats your body like his Sistine Chapel, you couldn’t help but be a _little_ flattered.

“Now, the finishing touch, luv,” Meat Sweats announced grandly. He plucked a maraschino from the jar, looked for the opening from which the pit was removed, and carefully slid the cherry onto your nipple. Where it stayed perfectly, as if that was its intended purpose.

You stared at yourself, dumbfounded. Meat Sweats waited for you to snap your head up at him before placing the other cherry on your second nipple. He seemed to get off on your humiliation just as much as he did by your taste.

“Hmm…” Meat Sweats studied his creation, rubbing his chin. “Still something missing.” He uncoiled your mouth. You took a deep breath, right before something was roughly shoved into it. It was the apple.

Your tolerance for his nonsense ran out. You looked daggers at your captor as he retrieved his phone and snapped a few pictures. After checking them, he showed you one. Despite looking as helpless as you felt, you had to hand it to him. Meat Sweats had done some pretty impressive art, considering the impromptu circumstances. Your breasts now look like two fancy truffles. Chocolate, with pink and gold swirls and a cherry on ‘top’.

“You’re a pretty little pudding, aren’t you?” Meat Sweats commended himself. He took the apple out of your mouth. You spit out the pieces that got ripped off behind your teeth.

“Really? _Really?_ ” You scolded, “You. Are. Projecting. Sir,” your was tone lethal as boiling acid.

As punishment Meat Sweats gagged you with his tentacles even rougher than the first time. “Feisty lass. Let’s hope your milk is as fresh as your mouth,” he taunted as knelt once again.

You scrunched your eyes shut, anticipating the, now familiar, feel of his mouth on your skin. What you didn’t anticipate was the electric feeling of Meat Sweats right arm, back in tentacle mode, prodding at your clit.

As the molten pleasure rose up between your legs, Meat Sweats took most of your right breast in his, equally, warm mouth. It was a welcome feeling after the chilliness of the chocolate sauce. You were taken aback by how gently he closed it down on your soft flesh. It felt like he was savoring the pliancy as well as the flavor. He began sucking the hardened chocolate off. Lightly moving his jaw up and down as he went. His jagged teeth lightly gnawing, but not biting.

The combined stimulation of your breast and your clit made you involuntarily lift yourself up by your wrists. Which quaked rapturously. Well past the point of being able to keep your composure, you moaned. At this, Meat Sweats poked your clit faster, causing you to writhe. You could feel his smile on your breast.

Once he’d cleaned your right breast of it’s candy coating, he held your nipple in his mouth and suckled playfully. He sucked hard enough to elongate your nipple in his mouth before, painfully, pulling it out.

“Delicious.” He stopped touching your clit and reassembled his arm. “Now this may hurt a might bit. And do be patient, luv. I haven’t hand expressed a woman in a while.”

_He’s not_ , you kept insisting to yourself, _someone please tell me, he’s not…._

Meat Sweats gingerly placed two fingers just below your areola and his thumb just above it. He began moving his hand back and forth toward and away from your chest. He shook your breast occasionally as if attempting to loosen something within it. You pleaded that this wouldn’t work. But, alas, you started to feel a bit of moisture on your nipple.

“Ah…” Meat Sweats breathed a sigh of relief, “there we are.”

He didn’t even allow you to look this time. He lapped up the hanging drop of milk, ravenously. He squeezed your breasts a few times in different areas to get the rest. You couldn’t tell if you were still lactating or not. But Meat Sweats stopped feeding to fill you in.

“You’ll only make a few drops on the first try,” he informed you in a consoling tone, “but don’t worry. We’ll practice together.”

And, just like that, you realized that Meat Sweats had already considered you his. He went back to strumming your clit as he licked the cherry off your nipple. He sucked off the chocolate more hungrily this time. His tongue circling around and around your breast, slipperily. Once he began attempting to manually express, you realized that he was right.

You’d never be able to fight him off at this point, so you gave into the animal inside who craved to submit. Your body limpened at the thought. No more flinching, no more feeble attempts to pull away.

As your left breast began letting down it’s milk, Meat Sweats slurped it all up again. Tongue flicking possessively over the yielding nipple.

“You made a little more with this one,” Meat Sweats satisfyingly mused. “Once you start regular milking, I’ll collect it and save it for a few of my recipes, I will.” He winked at you flirtily.

You locked eyes with each other. You nodded your head upward, twice, as a signal for him to ungag you.

“Okay, luv,” Meat Sweats obliged, “but only if you promise to be nice.”

The tentacles slowly unwrapped your face. You caught your breath and discovered that you couldn’t look him in the eye as you prepared to tell him what you needed. You closed your eyes and whispered only two words.

“Fuck me.”

Your voice was soft but Meat Sweats heard you.

“What’s that?” He asked his smile palpable in his voice. “You want my _cock_?”

Your lower body began pulsing with active waves of gleeful energy as you nodded.

Finally, his tentacles released your wrists as you fell to your hands and knees. Meat Sweats scooped you up in his arms.

“Well, well, well, Miss L/n,” he purred haughtily, as he held you up at eye level. Your feet far from the ground with your lower half touching his upper belly.

“We are quite the flatterer, aren’t we?” His gaze upon you was pompous yet adoring. You lost yourself and immediately kissed him. Just as aggressively as he’d done to you earlier. Without missing a beat, Meat Sweats caressed and held you closer to him. The heat rose. Your heart pounded in your chest. He moved your body up and down against his. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck. Your tongues folded and swirled in a blissful dance you hoped was endless. You pulled away from each other due to your mutual need for air.

“I missed you,” you confessed blushing like mad.

Meat Sweats hauled you over his shoulder as you gave a surprised ‘whoa’. He pulled your pants off and tossed them to the floor.

“You won’t have to anymore, luv,” he guaranteed as he walked over to the mattress and plopped you down on your back. You bounced a little upon impact.

Fear and ice-hot arousal took you over as Meat Sweats lowered his body onto yours. Not putting his full weight on you, of course. But allowing you to bear some of it. Mostly his huge gut. Placing your wrists above your head, for your own pleasure this time, you desperately hoped you didn’t look as turned on as you felt.

“You’re _my_ little snacky wacky now…” He kissed you unabashedly. Instead of tongue wrestling him back, you submitted. Welcoming the ‘bullying’ feeling of his kiss this time. You slipped into humping his gut, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Meat Sweats pulled away from your lips with a satisfying smack.

“Oh,” he grinned lecherously, “do you _like_ that?”

You gulped as you realized he _did_ notice. Meat Sweats re-positioned himself over you at arms length so that the top of his gut was under your chin. You prayed his arms wouldn’t slip.

Meat Sweats mashed you down into the mattress with his heavy girth. You craned your neck straight up. Opening your eyes, you saw him looking down at you. Judging from the astoundingly complacent look he was giving you, you’d completely failed at concealing your voluptuous arousal. You’d begun shaking your body left and right, creating luscious friction between the colliding valleys of your bodies. You inhaled deeply to pump up your lungs with air, to create more space underneath him. But the increasing pressure was beginning to surpass your personal limits.

“Please,” you squeaked, voice cracking from the rising pressure, “can we just skip to fucking?”

“Hmm…” Meat Sweats looked up from you, considering your plea. He paused before shifting himself to second base. His dick felt pre-tty thick. You wished you could budge an inch under his belly to grind on it.

“Alright,” Meat Sweats lifted his hefty body off you. You lied there motionless, the sensation of feeling flattened delightfully lingering on you.

“You’re a funny girl, Y/n,” Meat Sweats told you as he removed his apron and pants. His dick snapping up and wobbling after being released. It was as thick as it felt but not too long. It was also flushing deep fuchsia with a large, soft looking head.

“Bet you’re glad you ran into _me_ ,” he whispered as he brought your underwear all the way down your legs and off you. The crotch, sticky with your cum, peeled off you wetly.

Meat Sweats got on his knees on the mattress before you. He opened your legs and rubbed his cock up and down on your mound. It was his turn to try to hold his composure as he bit his lip with his eyes closed. Seeing with his member. You inwardly relished the feeling of his squishy gut on your soft inner thighs.

He pressed his head into your outer labia. You thrust forth, trying to help. But his head didn’t go too far. He tried again, wriggling around this time. You dilated around him but not enough to get the whole tip in.

“Can you grab onto something, luv?” Meat Sweats asked.

You looked around. You tried reaching for the pole in this side of the car, above your head. But it was too far out of reach. Then you tried reaching for the poles attached to the seats on either side of you. But they were also too far.

Meat Sweats backed up, dragging you with him. He placed his feet back on the ground and positioned you sitting on the edge of the mattress in front of him, pinning you to it. He unraveled his left tentacles and bound your wrists behind your back with them. He lifted you up off the mattress and down over his ready member’s head. Your fronts brushed each other again. You promptly re-moistened.

You gyrated your hips in slow certain motions. Meat Sweats mimicked your thrusts with his. The head popped right in, causing your walls to twitch. Meat Sweats gave a little grunt.

A strange calm came over you. It was the acceptance of the fact that you’d let this mutant have you and you liked it. No, you _loved_ it. With this thought, you thrust him deeper into you.

Meat Sweats exhaled through his teeth as he bit down harder on his lip. Your eagerness was an ego inflating surprise. He gave a little smirk as he looked down at you.

He squeezed the rest of himself into you by forcing you down his length with the grip on your wrists. This made your spine involuntarily straighten. A sight Meat Sweats feasted his eyes on.

He started lifting you up and down by your wrists, in full control of your movements. The return of the friction between you and his belly mixed with the increasing friction down below made you light-headed as your lower half shouted with searing bliss.

Although Meat Sweats’ wide shaft stretched your walls, the length was only barely making its way to your spot.

Meat Sweats must’ve done it with tons of women before you. Because, as if sensing your need, he lifted your left leg in the air with his right arm. Now as he thrusted, his head jabbed your g-spot. Full and strong. The sumptuous pain caused you to grunt with each ram. Your inner world ached with obscene pleasure. You tried not to let yourself go fully limp, in order to help Meat Sweats keep hold you up. But it was getting difficult to hold back…

As you clenched hard around him, Meat Sweats lost himself.

“Fuck… _fuck_ …” he breathed. 

There was something diverting and _nasty_ about hearing him swear with his accent. You could tell he was the one holding back now. You allowed yourself to come, letting out brief little screams as you tightened harder.

Meat Sweats looked to the ceiling, exhaling deeply. Amidst your climax, you could feel Meat Sweats load pumping it’s way up his shaft.

“ _Bloody fuckin_ ’-”

He exploded, painting your insides like he’d done to your outsides. The gravity defying angle made you feel especially dirty. You rode the last tremors of your orgasm as Meat Sweats tensed and stood completely still.

Once you stopped moving Meat Sweats uttered “… chine,” before slumping down on the mattress pulling himself out of you. Luckily for you it hurt the good way. You sat on the mattress edge loving the pain. Then, Meat Sweats grabbed you, lay down on his side and held you to him like a cherished stuffed toy. You were squished but content.

Tuckered, you both feel into a peaceful sleep. When you opened your eyes the next morning you expected to see the ceiling of your apartment. Not the ceiling of an NYC train car.

You did your best to live your life normally, during the following weeks. Going to your job as a baker, feeding your plants, going to the gym. But somewhere in the back of your mind the high inducing feeling of being in the clutches of your mutant lover sat like a boulder in a creek.

Soon, masturbation and sex toys weren’t enough for you. You found yourself going back down to the subway, seeking him out. He took you every time. Sometimes without a single word. It became a habit which you found somewhat mortifying, at first. But overtime, deep within, you started to own the simple truth that with him was where you belonged.


End file.
